


The Promise

by darlingdisastrous



Series: Me and My Husband - Anthology [5]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Age Difference, Bathing/Washing, Bathtubs, Courting Rituals, Courtship, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Falling In Love, Hair Brushing, Hair Washing, Intimacy, Long Hair, Love Confessions, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Neck Kissing, No Smut, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Nudity, Older Man/Younger Woman, Praise Kink, Reader-Insert, Romance, Self-Indulgent, Self-Insert, Slow Romance, Surprise Kissing, Tenderness, age gap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:08:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26731885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingdisastrous/pseuds/darlingdisastrous
Summary: "I'm going to marry you."
Relationships: Illumi Zoldyck/Reader
Series: Me and My Husband - Anthology [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1940818
Comments: 11
Kudos: 194





	The Promise

I woke to an empty bed.

Sleepily, I reached for Illumi, but was met with downturned bedsheets. They were still warm. Blearily, I rub the sleep from my eyes and prop myself up.

Illumi was near the foot of the bed gathering a fresh set of clothes.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, not looking at me.

“Are you leaving?”

Illumi was getting better about warning me about his upcoming missions; but, sometimes they came out of the blue.

“No.” He pulls out a loose, purple shirt and tucks it under his arm. He knew that one was my favorite. “I’m about to run a bath. You should go back to sleep. It’s still early for you.”

I check the bedside clock, noting the time. He’s right (of course). It’s five a.m.; on a normal day, I wouldn’t be up until seven.

But, it’s Sunday—the one day I have off from practice—and time doesn’t matter.

I admire him from a far, noting the muscular build of his arms and the lay of his hair. “Can I help?”

Illumi looks up, his whole body rigid. “Help with what?”

Bashfully, I glance from the bathroom and back to him, hoping he’d understand the subtle hint. It felt wrong to say it out loud. Illumi was reserved in his affections—wanting to be the one who initiated contact. It was seldom I ever started it.

“I just ... Well, it doesn’t matter.” I pick at the blanket, unable to meet his eyes. “Never mind. Enjoy your bath. Maybe, I’ll make us some breakfast.”

Illumi purses his lips, analyzing me with those unfathomable eyes of his. “You can do as you wish.”

He left it at that, heading into the bathroom without another word. 

That wasn’t helpful in the slightest. Though Illumi was getting better at communicating, he often spoke cryptically, and it was up to me to decipher his meaning.

After a few moments of internal debating, I finally exited the bed and padded over to the bathroom.

I knocked once to let him know I was coming in. Illumi was already in the tub. He had folded his dirty clothes and laid them on the sink. 

He was far too tall for my little bathtub, yet he seemed unperturbed by it. His bare shoulders were visible above the water; if I turned my head just right, I caught the barest sliver of his chest. The heat on my face turned into a raging wildfire.

Seeing Illumi in a state of undress was few and far between. He hadn’t shown much interest in sexual matters—at least, not to my face—so I never pushed for it.

The fact that a little skin was enough to make me bush made me realize just how touch starved I’d become.

Illumi was toying with the water, his lithe fingers dancing across the sudsy surface. He caught my eyes in the mirror. “Hey.”

I smile at his reflection. “Hey.”

Illumi—bless him—doesn’t remark on the blush. Instead, he turns away from the mirror and faces me entirely. “Are you coming?”

Suddenly, my hands feel a little clammy. Yeah, I asked for this, _yada yada yada_ ... But, honestly, I never thought he’d go for it!

“Only if it’s okay with you.”

Illumi regarded me a moment longer, then relaxed against the back of the tub. Silken strands of his hair spilled over the edge, almost brushing the floor.

“I wouldn’t invite you if I didn’t mean it.”

That’s all I need to hear. I made quick work of my clothes, leaving them in a messy pile at the base of the sink. Illumi’s head snapped up, rather obviously, from where he lay to look at me. I inhale sharply, glancing at him over my shoulder. Illumi had trained shame out of him a long time ago, that's why he had no qualms about staring the way he did.

Despite me never seeing Illumi naked, he’d seen me like this. There were some days, after particularly difficult practices, that I was too sore to move or was nursing a minor injury; Illumi took it upon himself to care for me me, lightly chastising me about being weak. He never meant any of it. (At least, I don’t think he did.) Illumi also never looked at my body for too long out of respect.

It was very chivalrous of him—I’d give him that—though sometimes I wished he spend a little longer looking...

"Come on." He motioned me forward with a gentle crook of his fingers.

I followed on command. I stepped into the tub, intending to give him a wide berth, but Illumi apparently didn’t want that. He caught me by the hips and pulled me forward onto his lap.

Panic flares within me. "No, wait—"

"What is it?" He doesn’t sound annoyed, only curious.

And, completely oblivious to the obvious fear within me. He didn’t release me, much to my chagrin, keeping me firmly held just above his thighs.

"I don't want to, um." I stared at the wall above his head, unable to meet his eyes. "I don't to hurt you."

"You’re not capable of hurting me," Illumi states. "I'm a trained assassin, I'd stop you before you could try."

I laugh despite myself. "No, not like that. I don't want to crush you."

His eyebrows pinch inwards. "The front doors of my home weigh a total of two-hundred-and-fifty-six tons. My rattle as a child weighed sixty pounds. You weigh nothing. Now sit, you're being annoying."

I would’ve put up more of a fight, but this new information about his family stole my attention. Illumi gently forced me down on his thighs, and my hands unconsciously find their place on his shoulders.

Much to my surprise, he lets them stay.

"I don't get you, sometimes," Illumi mutters, just loud enough for me to hear. 

His lithe fingers trail over the expanse of my back, like he was trying to memorize it. Despite the warmth of the water, his skin is still icy. A trail of goosebumps erupted where he touched, like magic.

The touch made me feel warm inside. I bit my lower lip, tracing the curve of his jaw with my eyes.

Unconsciously, my fingers begin to stroke him back, mimicking the pattern he drew on me. Illumi said nothing to this, so I assumed it was alright for me to continue.

"Illumi?” He hums in response. "Can I play with your hair?"

His fingers stop. He frowns. "Why?"

"Because it's pretty."

Illumi has an unreadable expression. Finally, he looks away, turning his head to the side. "Do what you want."

It might be a trick of light, but I could've sworn I saw a faint blush on his cheeks. I decide not to ask—that would've definitely killed the mood—and instead weave my fingers through his inky back strands.

Starting with the tip, I smooth it over with my thumb, admiring the softness, the slowly work my way up. Illumi watches me closely with an unreadable expression, like at any moment I'll try something.

I twirl a strand around my finger, admiring the way it wraps around me. The ends are damp from the water and silky smooth. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him take care of it. He must do it when I’m not around, that’s the only explanation. There isn’t a single split end or flyaway.

"It's unfair," I remark—mainly to myself. "How is your hair this nice? I wish mine would look like this."

I unwind the strand from my finger and resume combing through it with my fingers.

At some point, Illumi’s leaned back against the edge in a pseudo-relaxed manner, still watching me ever so closely. I was struck with the desire to kiss the exposed column of his throat, but refrained. I’d need to ask him first.

"It's just hair,” Illumi remarks.

"Pretty hair," I correct.

Suddenly, his hand emerged from the water and cupped the base of my neck, pulling me flush against him. Our faces are inches apart. His nose brushed against my own, pressing a feather-light kiss to my lips.

Illumi’s eyes are wide open, observing my own with intense curiosity.

"What do you want from me?" he asks, lips brushing against mine. "No one uses that much flattery without having an ulterior motive."

I laugh breathily. "I don't want anything.” Illumi arched an eyebrow. “Well...” I bite my bottom lip to contain a smile. “I’d like another _kiss_.” 

He scoffs at this, and yet pulls me in once more. This kiss was deeper than the firs. The warmth inside of me stirred, blooming, until it covered my entire chest.

I'd never get used to it. It didn't matter how many times he kissed me, it would always make sparks fly.

When he pulls away he’s smiling. Just a little. "I like when you look like that."

"Like what?" I touch my face. "When I look like what?"

Illumi covers your hand with his briefly, before pulling back completely to rest his head on the back of the tub again. "Red."

I scoff.

Kissing him hadn’t distracted me from my goal. I continued to brush my fingers through his hair until I've reached his roots. My finger nails lightly scrape against his scalp and his eyes fly open, jerking back.

"I'm sorry."

He reaches up and slowly removes my hand from his head.

I fear I’ve ruined the moment, when Illumi speaks up. "I thought you wanted to come in here to help."

He doesn’t mean to, but the way he said it made him sound seductive. I fight off a shiver.

"What do you want help with?"

Illumi elects to ignore my question. He grabs the soap, which sits in a little cove on the wall, and lathers it in his hands. His hands find home on my skin once more. They’re rough from years of training, but the callouses feel good against my flesh.

He rubs my back and then my neck, his fingers massaging the soap in with care.

"Here I am, doing all the work," Illumi teases.

I want to bite out a witty retort, but his meaning dawns on me. "You'll let me wash you?"

"I can't think of any other way you could assist."

 _I could_. Mentally, I chastise myself for such perverted thoughts—but, really, he was making it too easy!

I follow his lead and lather some soap in my hands. I glance up at him once, making sure he really is okay with this. Illumi gives me a short nod and I move in.

His chest is riddled with scars. Some of them that are more recent have a pink tinge to them. The older ones are silver and shine in the fluorescent lights. I run my fingers along them carefully, feeling each indention and bump with care.

Illumi is tense. Even though I know he asked for this, (without asking), I take it slow. After months of being together, I’d come to the conclusion that touch was synonymous with pain for him. One day, I’d be brave enough to ask him about it. For now, I was content with taking it slow.

I cup my hands and gently splash some water across his chest to wash off the suds. When I remove my hands, he seems to relax.

Illumi takes his time on me as well. His fingers work around the base of my neck, my shoulders, my arms, and down to my chest. He boldly massages my breasts, taking them in both his hands and squeezing. He lingers there a little longer than necessary, but I don’t mind.

"Turn." A short and sweet command. I listen, adjusting myself in his lap so my back faces him. His thighs form a cage around me.

Illumi is meticulous washing my back, leaving no inch of skin untouched. When he deems himself done, he follows my lead and washes me clean.

I'm about to turn and ask him to switch places when he tangles his hand in my hair and guides my head to the side, exposing my neck.

He brushes through the tangled strands as meticulously as he had touched my skin, until they are to his liking.

Illumi lays a feather-light kiss to the junction of my neck. Once. Then twice, more firm then the first. The third time, he doesn’t stop, and kisses from the base of my ear to the top of my shoulder.

My breathing stutters. I moan softly, and Illumi abruptly stops. He weaves his other arm around my waist, pulling me flush against his chest.

My head lolls back against his shoulder and our eyes meet. His are swirling with desire. (Desire for what? He’d never tell me.) I nuzzle his chin with my nose, pressing my own kiss on the underside of his jaw.

Illumi catches my chin between his fingers and brushes his thumb across my lower lip.

"I'm going to marry you."

It's not a question. It's a promise.


End file.
